Chapter 1
“Let’s talk about acquiring Y Corporation later, Chancellor Gabriel,” Ginger Hopewell said before hanging up the phone. She opened the door, stepping out into the cool, mist-laden air around the swimming pool. The gentle breeze brushed against her face, allowing her to momentarily clear her mind of work concerns. She took off her jacket and set it aside. Just as she was about to step into the water, the surface suddenly churned. Emerging from the depths was another swimmer, who grabbed the edge of the pool and hoisted himself out. Water dripped from his proud, elongated neck and cascaded down his well-defined physique. This young man wasn’t just fit from the gym; his body was a natural blend of sculpted beauty and strength, an impressive combination reminiscent of a Greek Adonis. He was her husband’s brother, Sir Quinton. When he spotted her, he gave a casual nod. Ginger Hopewell subtly averted her gaze, responding with a polite yet reserved smile. Her husband had been gone for nearly a month, and she typically worked late, coming home to Thorne Keep when the day was done. Sir Quinton, meanwhile, had been spending his summer break from school at Old Ben the Wise’s residence, preparing for the upcoming academic year, which is why they crossed paths today. She had known Sir Quinton for a long time, and while they used to spend more time together in their younger days, they had grown distant as they matured. Sir Quinton picked up a white towel draped over a nearby bench, facing away from her as he dried off his body. The way his muscles flexed with each motion inadvertently drew her attention to his enticing physique, then shifted down to his powerful waist. That waist… it seemed designed to captivate the heart of any young woman. At nineteen, Quinton must have had his share of romantic experiences. Unbidden, she licked her lips, engaging in a fanciful daydream about his Adonis-like form. “Are you going to swim?” Lady Natasha Thorne asked, turning slightly with a friendly smile that felt refreshing, as invigorating as a gust of sea breeze. “I wouldn’t want to swim without my instructor. They just informed me that the Chancellor isn’t coming today,” Ginger replied, her brows arching slightly as she turned to Lady Natasha and offered a warm smile. “Could you teach me a few strokes while you’re here?” How could Lady Natasha refuse her request? With a playful grin, she set the towel aside and slipped back into the water. Ginger Hopewell cautiously made her way down the steps into the pool, where the cool water soothed her on a hot summer day. Lady Natasha, concerned about her balance, assisted her descent. When Sir Quinton’s hand touched her arm, she felt the warmth of his skin, and the pressure he applied made her heart flutter unexpectedly. After a month of long hours and little male interaction, the physical touch of such an attractive man left her momentarily flustered. How had she never noticed him before? Perhaps, she had never seen Sir Quinton without a shirt. Learning to breathe during swim practice involved submerging oneself before surfacing at the right moment. Ginger closed her eyes and submerged herself. Though Lady Natasha was holding onto one of her hands, the sudden sensation of suffocation and the lonely float of being adrift made her instinctively cling to Quinton’s sturdy chest as she broke the surface. With her slender, pale hands pressing tightly against his damp chest, she found herself nestled against the handsome young man, her breath hitching as she gasped for air.
Chapter 2
Her swimsuit was modest yet accentuated her fair, delicate neck and the tasteful elegance of her shoulders. As she moved through the water, it clung to her body, outlining the soft, luscious curve at her chest. Lady Natasha Thorne kept her gaze lowered, avoiding the sight she shouldn't have been looking at. He moved his hand to her wrist, pulling back slightly. "Want to give it another try?" he asked quietly. She really didn't want to swim at all. In his mind, she had always been this graceful and dignified figure, a perfect match for Lord Benjamin Thorne, treating him with polite friendliness that also hinted at distance. He had never seen her in such a vulnerable state before. Ginger Hopewell smiled gently, albeit a bit awkwardly. "Sorry about that." She submerged herself again, barely managing to keep pace with her breathing. During her final attempt, her rhythm faltered, and she swallowed some water. Like most people who were afraid of water, she instinctively latched onto him like a lifeline, her warm body pressed against his, countless droplets cascading down her glossy black hair. Lady Natasha Thorne patiently patted her back, helping her catch her breath. When she finally came up for air, she found her abdomen pressed against him, and the sight of the bulk in his swim shorts was shocking yet oddly compelling. She feigned nonchalance while taking in the impressive size of him. Her belly brushed against his, teasing and provoking, even through the thin fabric of their swimwear. As if it were all unintentional. Lady Natasha Thorne’s steady breaths almost faltered, her breathing quickened slightly. The muffled sound that escaped her throat was tantalizingly inviting. Young Oliver Marshal Edgar was overwhelmed with a sudden rush of desire, every inch of him igniting with anticipation as he felt the softness and warmth of her body against him, a need growing stronger even as his rational mind tried to wrestle with the situation. Ginger Hopewell noticed his body's reaction, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and concern at the obvious physical response. Lady Natasha had no experience with such intimacy; she didn't realize how close they had become, thinking merely of her own embarrassment. She instinctively arched her back, creating distance between them. Ginger Hopewell too knew she shouldn't press so closely, loosening her grip on him and apologizing again softly, “I got too nervous there.” The vibrant light in his eyes dimmed, his gaze drifting to the distant water’s surface, lashes downcast, adding a raw innocence to his handsome features. "It's all right," he murmured. "Then let’s take a lesson from today and just move on, okay?" she said cheerily, took hold of the railing, and climbed out of the pool, putting distance between them. She paused to glance back, noticing Lady Natasha was also emerging from the water. He picked up a towel, not to dry himself, but to drape it at his side, letting it fall casually. A single glance was enough for her to see through his façade. She turned, a light smile gracing her lips. Poor Ben the Wise must be quite pent up right now. As meal time approached, the two of them sat at the table, silently waiting for the food to arrive. Lady Natasha Thorne appeared somewhat displeased, fingers brushing over her slightly furrowed brow, trying to smooth it out. “What’s the matter?” Ginger Hopewell asked. He looked at her, forcing a smile. “We just received word that there's an issue with the data from one of the Houses. It’s going to delay the reconstruction of the new captain’s data.” As his elder, Ginger Hopewell naturally showed concern. “Just arrange your time well, and it should get sorted quickly.” “Don’t take on too much extra work,” he cautioned. “Alright.”
Chapter 3
The food was served, and Lady Natasha Thorne cut into her steak absently, taking small bites without really tasting it. “Just a little distracted,” she murmured, concocting a reason as her mind drifted elsewhere, fixating on another Chancellor entirely. After Ginger Hopewell married her brother, she had chosen to distance herself from her, believing she had successfully buried the secret, forbidden love that had lingered in her heart. But an accidental brush of their hands earlier had ignited that old fire. He couldn't silence his desires any longer; alone in his room, he succumbed to the thoughts of her, a desperate release that brought an immediate wave of guilt for both Lord Benjamin Thorne and her. The weight of his sorrow haunted him for a long while. “Lady Natasha Thorne, shall we take a drive after dinner?” he asked, managing a smile, his demeanor polished and composed. “Cheer up.” She had always been observant and considerate, the kind of woman who made everyone around her feel at ease. Lady Natasha recalled the time she was ten years old, when her parents had brought her to a banquet where she sat with Ginger Hopewell and her father. That day's mild cold had turned worse in the cacophony of sounds, making her head spin. Wanting to avoid drawing attention to her discomfort, she slipped away to the washroom. Stepping outside, she unexpectedly bumped into Ginger Hopewell. The sixteen-year-old maiden glowed with the beauty of a fresh daffodil. Seeing Natasha’s flushed cheeks, she tilted her head, gently laid her hand on her forehead for warmth, before taking her hand and guiding her to the Thorne family doctor who was accompanying them. Four years later, Ginger Hopewell became engaged to her brother. Natasha hadn’t attended their engagement ceremony, feigning illness as she lay in the sleeping quarters. A gentle breeze wafted through her window, carrying the sounds of joyful music and laughter from outside. Unable to bear it, she rose weakly to lean against the window frame, her gaze hungrily following Ginger's distant figure. How pathetic, she thought. Just because I was born six years later. In the car, Ginger Hopewell gripped the steering wheel, occasionally stealing glances at Lady Natasha seated beside her in the passenger seat. A moment passed, and Natasha’s gaze roamed over Gabriel's sharp eyebrows, his bright eyes, and those thin, Adonis-like lips. His facial structure reminded her of the sculptures she once saw on the walls of ancient Rome—deeply chiseled and vibrant with youth. She enjoyed observing different gentlemen, admiring their various attributes—be it physical strength or innate charm. She often wished to possess such qualities herself, to embrace the stormy charisma they exuded, even if she didn’t truly love them but was captivated by the allure behind their beings. It might sound outrageous, but she didn’t care; if it brought some much-needed excitement into her monotonous life, the moral constraints and societal norms were of little consequence. But when would she finally have Lady Natasha Thorne? ----------------- The first male lead was, indeed, her young brother-in-law. But of course, he wasn’t the first gentleman that captured the maiden’s true affection.
Chapter 4
Ginger Hopewell settled into her office chair, powering up her computer to face an extensive list of tasks left by Ben the Wise. The morning buzz surrounding the negotiations was particularly unnerving. “Ginger, Marshal Edgar,” Lady Susanna said as she placed a steaming cup of coffee by her side, “W Industries just called. They’re sending a Lord Chancellor this afternoon to discuss matters.” “Good,” Ginger replied, taking a sip of the bitter brew that temporarily calmed her restless mind. “Have Lord Reginald prepare for the meeting.” At the top of the CBD skyscraper, Ginger stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out over the sprawling city beneath her. A knock interrupted her moment of contemplation. Lady Susanna opened the door to reveal a striking young gentleman sent by W Industries. Clad in an immaculate suit that accentuated his tall frame, Quinn's neatly combed hair framed features that would easily catch anyone’s eye. Ginger recalled catching a glimpse of him at some event—a memorable impression from the air of confidence he exuded. Like her, he was an heir to a corporate legacy, his father, Sir Quinton, valuing his son’s capabilities for business dealings. Most authority within W Industries had already been entrusted to him. “Greetings, Roland,” Ginger said, nodding with a warm smile as she extended her hand. They shook hands, though there was a coolness to his demeanor as he pulled back, stating in a businesslike tone, “Ginger Marshal Edgar, I’d like to discuss the acquisition of Y Corporation with you.” Though Y Corporation had its struggles, its innovative strategies and compelling patents made it a target of interest among many Guild Hall firms, all eager to acquire the company at a bargain. Both W Industries and Ginger’s own company were offering the highest bids, but tensions ran high in this cutthroat race for ownership, and both parties sought a viable resolution. As they dived into the issues at hand, Ginger couldn’t help but admire his decisive and straightforward style. After a lengthy exchange, they had largely addressed the core issues, leaving only a few entangled details yet to be resolved. “Let’s stick to the current plan. We can tackle any peripheral issues later,” Ginger proposed. With the main components of the agreement settled, there was little left to discuss. Roland Carver agreed and signed the necessary paperwork. Noticing his teacup empty, Ginger stood and gracefully refilled it from the teapot, leaning close for a moment. Sitting across from her, Roland caught a whiff of her subtle fragrance—light and refreshing, inviting yet not overpowering—making him instinctively tense at the unexpected closeness. Sensing his subtle discomfort, Ginger straightened up, returning to her seat with poise and elegance. “Thank you for your time, Ginger. I won’t take up more of your day,” Roland said, rising and adjusting his bowtie, revealing a hint of anxiety beneath his composed exterior. “Until next time,” she replied, watching as he departed her office. Once alone, Ginger sank into her soft chair, staring up at the ceiling, mulling over the meeting's outcomes. Just then, another knock echoed through the room. This time it was the typically sharp click of Lady Susanna’s heels, but standing at the door was Lord Reginald. Once her father's assistant, he had naturally become her right-hand man following his passing. “The driver’s on leave. I’m here to take you home,” he said. “Come here for a moment,” Ginger instructed, her mind still lingering on the day’s events.
Chapter 5
Ginger Hopewell raised her gaze to the man standing next to her. Marshal Edgar, with his raven-black eyes and a taut mouth, appeared to be holding back something beneath his calm exterior. The fading light of dusk cast long shadows in the dim room, enveloping her in a silhouette reminiscent of a mountain's shadow. Tentatively, she extended a hand, her slender fingers drifting along his waist. Lord Reginald, a man molded by his military upbringing, was always fit and athletic. Even through the delicate fabric of his shirt, she could feel the contours of his well-defined muscles beneath her touch. As her fingers traveled downward, slipping beneath his belt, they were abruptly halted by his firm grip. Reginald’s throat pulsed slightly, his brows relaxing for a brief moment. “Ginger.” She blinked, puzzled. “What’s wrong?” His hand pressed down on her wrist, its roughness contrasting with her soft skin. She twisted her hand, teasingly brushing her fingers against his palm, like a feather caressing a surface. He remained silent, his body rigid. Ginger decided to stop her ministrations, standing instead and taking his arm as they moved toward the exit. “Let’s go; you’re going to take me home.” Outside the House of Thorne, the dimly lit carriage awaited them, a few rays of dusk barely illuminating the scene. In the back, a maiden perched on the legs of a gentleman, leaning into his embrace as they shared a passionate kiss. Their lips met with fervor, tongues entwined, creating a chorus of soft, wet sounds that filled the air. The heat of their desire made Ginger feel light-headed, her eyes half-closed as she caught the essence of their intimate moment. With her fingertips gliding over the gentleman’s chest, she couldn't help but admire his form, igniting more fire in Lord Reginald, who drew her closer, their bodies melding together, heightening the tension. The atmosphere was thick with raw, unrestrained passion. The sounds of quiet respirations intermingled with soft sighs, creating a prelude to a symphony of intimacy waiting to unfold. Ginger sat up straight, pulling back slightly, her eyes meeting the restrained gaze of Lord Reginald. He was always so controlled, only breaking his composure when absolutely necessary; even now, his hands stayed demurely at her waist, refraining from exploring other territories. Feeling a surge of desire, she crossed her legs and instinctively squeezed together, the fabric of her skirt sticking to her, a reminder of her need. Lately, the Chancellor’s workload had overwhelmed her with tasks in the Guild Hall, leaving her little time to breathe amidst the myriad of responsibilities. She longed for him—so desperately wished to lose herself in more than just moments of tenderness. But Lady Natasha Thorne still occupied the surroundings, and dinner was approaching; she couldn’t keep Reginald waiting any longer. After a fleeting interlude, he smoothed out her slightly rumpled blouse with careful fingers. Unable to resist, she planted a kiss on his deeply set brow, whispering softly, “After I finish this last bit of work, we can have our time together.” His long fingers danced from her shoulder to her waist, adjusting the fabric carefully. Hearing her words, he replied in a hushed tone, “Alright.”
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